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Profiling

In the UK less than an hour and already something worth writing home about, as it were. I’m sitting in the airport bar, having a coffee, and I notice a vaguely “ethnic-looking” chap hanging out at the bar – not eating or drinking, just standing there. He’s wearing a suit, no tie, and isn’t otherwise suspicious as far as I can see. The police disagreed, and at first one, then two and finally three question him. He (rightfully) gets upset, protesting that he’s waiting for his wife. This being Europe, the cops are wearing Kevlar and carrying SMGs, and I was starting to think about hitting the deck when one of them defused the situation by – you can’t make this stuff up – buying him a cup of coffee.

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